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Then he began, carefully, methodically to send a Morse-code message to his companion via his winking eyes. "O-N-L-Y one gun between them. You take big fellow. I'll charge gun ..." "Can't you figure this thing out either?" asked Mason, leaning over Loring's shoulder. "Ah, this wagon is an old converted chemical burner. These controls are old as the sun. I've got to find the automatic pilot!"
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